


The Vast Oceans Could Not Compare

by Heatherdrawings



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heatherdrawings/pseuds/Heatherdrawings
Summary: Laurent is the Captain of a rag-tag crew of pirates who plunder the sea in search of treasure and adventure. After taking a short stop in a nearby town, the Captain meets Damen, a man with an ambition for adventure. After joining the crew, their relationship only grows stronger.
Relationships: Damen & Laurent (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. The Docks

There was a thud, and then the squeaking grind of old wood shifting underneath the rugged boots running on top of it. It didn’t take long after docking for the crew to run off in search of mead, food, and perhaps a brothel. 

They had been on the sea for perhaps six months. Their time was spent pillaging and hijacking unknowing ships that crossed their paths. They were all sick and tired of the sea for the time being and needed a well-deserved vacation away from the dangerous life of maritime thievery. 

Even the Captain agreed. 

The Captain, who was a cold, closed off, cast-iron bitch…in the words of the crew. He seldom engaged in the camaraderie that was shared among the deck, and instead spend the days in his champers—most likely double-checking the ship’s course or planning some sort of siege. He kept to himself except for when they had a raid. During then, he was always in the front, directing the mean and leading them as he should. 

He was good at that. 

He was good at giving direction and purpose to the men who so desperately needed that structure. At least they had time and time again proven themselves loyal. 

After the last of the books left the newly docked ship, the Captain himself stood not the edge of the forecastle deck, looking out over the dock town they had found themselves in. 

“Adequate.” He said to himself.

It was a quaint town. Most of the houses and stores were perched on top of docks connected to each other by bridged and ropes. Further off in the distance, there was solid land where other houses and shops were. He didn’t pay much mind to those, they wouldn’t be here long. He only planned to restock on supplies and allow his crew the pleasure of fucking they so couldn’t stop talking about. It would have bothered him as much if they had no intentionally stood outside the door of his Captain quarters and shouted “Gee I could sure use a good fucking” every night for weeks. He revealed in the thought of a good night’s sleep finally as the evening started to grow closer. 

He tapped the toe of his boot to the wood a few times and followed the path that the crew had taken off the boat. He navigated the docks alone and let the setting sun saint off the gold of his deep blue jacket. He licked his lips as the salty sea air faded into more of rotting fruit smell. He turned his head to see probably the only tavern in the town—it was a small town after all.

He shrugged slightly and entered, the glow from inside much stronger now that the sun has mostly set. 

It was loud. It was loud and full of very very drunk men. He found his way to a seat in the corner, his cutlass clattering against the table as he removed it to fix himself into a comfortable position. It was nice not to sway for once.

Most of the men were crowded together in the center of the room, singing shanties or telling stories that were undoubtedly lies or very embellished truths. He let out a soft laugh imaging the kind of bullshit stories his crew would be screwing to anyone who would listen. They were pirates, yes, but the Captain had played it was rather safe, strategically keeping the ship out of the way of formidable enemies, only praying on small boats or town too poor to be able to afford the protection they a major city would. 

His uncle was a pirate as well—a well known one at that. Part of him was scared to cross his path and perhaps that was the reason he kept their adventure rather tame. He would never have admitted this though, he still had his pride. 

A man came over to where he sat.

“Water,” Said the Captain and directed the man away with a sharp jab of his chin. He came back briefly after with a glass cup of exactly what he requested.

“Don’t drink?”

The Captain turned his head to where this new voice came from. He has dark hair, not quite curly, but rather mimicked the flow of open ocean waves. His skin was much darker than the Captain’s—which was almost as pale as the moon outside. The new man’s however, was a warm brown against the flames from lanterns around them. 

The man was two tables away from him, though the men—now dancing in the center—were far enough away that he could easily hear the man as he spoke in a normal, conversational tone. 

“I find I prefer a clear headspace,” He replied, he raised his eyebrows slightly and took a sip from his glass after turning his head away from the man.

The man stood up from his head and walked over to where the Captain sat. He pulled a chair from an adjacent, empty table and pulled it up to sit face the Captain. His legs straddled the back of the chair as his muscular arms folded over the top, giving him a place to rest his chin as he spoke.

“Then why come to a tavern?”

“It sure beats a rocking ship,”

“A Ship? So you’re a traveler?”

“We refer to ourselves as something a bit more…egregious,” 

The man took a better look at Captain, his eye squinting a bit. A smile played at his mouth as he came to realize what the Captain had meant.

“A pirate huh,” He didn’t stop looking at the Captain. The lantern on the table was dimmed but still made his golden hair looks like something of a dream He watched the muscle in his jaw and neck shift as he craned his neck a bit to take a sip of water. The Captain, however, has chosen a whole on the wood floor to study and did not adjust his light on sight during this exchange of words. “Can’t say I ever met one who didn’t drink. It almost seems like a rite of passage,”

“I worked for what I have and what I have was not the doing of a drink,” The Captain replied quickly with an edge to his voice. 

“Fair enough,” The man turned his head to the center of the room. “Are they your men then?”

“No. We’re here for a day, they’re probably at a brothel,”

“Ah. I see they have their priorities mapped out,” 

The Captain laughed into his cup as he took one final sip of water before gently placing it on the table.

“They all but begged me for a day’s rest in a town,”

“How kind of you,” The man said a bit sarcastically, but with a playful hint to his tone.

The Captain turns to look at him. “You travel as well?”

“Nah, not from me. Been stuck here my whole life. Opportunity just never came up I suppose,” He turned his head to look at the Captain in return. “I’m Damen by the way.”

“Laurent,” said the Captain. 

“Laurent,” Damen affirmed. 

He stood up, refastened the cutlass to his belt, and tossed two copper coins on the table next to his empty glass. 

“Well, Damen, if you’re ever up for some adventure,” He brushed out the wrinkles on his coat and faced the Damen, the shadows wavering from the candlelight that was interrupted by the swift movements. “Stop by the docks tomorrow morning.” He reached out his hand and Damen took it, giving is a firm but not tight squeeze before shaking is once.

“And it’s Captain Laurent.”


	2. Sea of Sleep

He had gone straight back to the ship after his encounter at the tavern. Laurent found no reason to spend money at an inn when his Captain’s quarters were far more comfortable than what this dreary town could offer. His crew, however, had very low standards, and not of them had opted to stay back and sleep on the ship.

It was only about eleven when he got back to the ship. He lit a lantern and locked the door behind him. He moved the large hat from his head and placed his on the side table next to the mattress he slept on. Shortly after he allowed himself to fall hard onto the soft cushions, breathing in the gentle scent of lavender—which he made sure to always have in his cabin. 

Laurent looked at the ceiling for a while, watching the flickering lantern create different shapes and patterns in the mahogany wood. His limbs felt heavy for a reason he didn’t quite understand. The day before had been smooth sailing, not raid, no hard waters, it was a simple and easy trip from where they were, to the town they came to be in. It was strange. 

He dragged a hand down his face, only now becoming aware of the signs of how tired he was. He opened the pocket he let dangle on his him and blinked once before realizing it really was two in the morning. He didn’t notice how long he had been lying there doing absolutely nothing. 

He forced himself up and across the room where he stripped himself of the heavy and extravagant clothing he usually wore. The deep blue coat was unlaced and peeled away to where he hung it during the night. Laurent was left in a plain white shirt, tucked loosely into the high-waisted black pants he still wore. He kicked off the boots the rose to his mid-thigh and found himself walking back to bed with his dress shirt and pants still on. He was too tired to care.

He closed off the air filter in the lantern, letting the flame suffocate into nothingness, and then letting himself flop back into the mattress.

He closed his eyes and his mind drifted back to the tavern and the man who had seen him and decided to have a conversation with him. A small smiled from on his face unknowingly as he drifted further and further into a sweet slumber, with only the cooing of seagulls and perhaps the scratching and calling of a stray cat that had wandered on deck. 

Though, Laurent’s mind was elsewhere.


End file.
